


Smitten

by JuliaBC



Series: Rosarita Series [2]
Category: Zorro (TV 1957)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 03:11:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5692390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliaBC/pseuds/JuliaBC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>WDZ. Frustrated by Diego's lack of interest, Rosarita strives to learn more about the man called Zorro. Set between Agent of the Eagle and The Unmasking of Zorro. Part Two in a series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Part Two

Chapter One

* * *

 _"I hesitate to say it, but I've never been very good at writing letters...family always complained I soon tired of the task..."_ Rosarita looked at the lines in frustration. How dare Diego act like this new him was acceptable? It was nothing like he'd always been.

She'd returned to Los Angeles after such a long time away, and she'd fully expected Diego to keep his word and _never change._ And now, here she was, facing the horrible truth that Diego _had_ changed. Irrevocably.

The Barbarossa situation was horrible. Magistrado Galindo had no right to be doing what he was. And Diego. All he had done...

Tears came into her eyes. "Write a letter!" She spat. She would never have thought that Diego would act like that, especially after their meeting in the plaza.

 _"You are even more lovely than I remember,"_ and then,

 _"Vows? Oh, that we would marry when we grew up."_ He had laughed at that, so she had laughed with him. But why did he laugh? He had acted so confused and hurt by her departure; it was Diego who had proposed those very vows and now he laughed at them!

She looked out the window to see the sun finishing its descent, marking the first day of Franco Barbarossa's imprisonment and torture. She pressed her lips tightly together.

If only she _could_ do something! A thought flew into her head, then it was followed by words of her father. _"I know you seek justice, hija, but you cannot do this. A senorita never...a woman shouldn't...it is a man's world."_ Lectures over the years melded together to form one thought. It was a man's world.

But Diego was no longer the man she thought he'd be.

* * *

It was early the next morning, when a tired Rosarita made her way down to breakfast, that she heard the news.

"I know this will cheer you," Uncle Izar told her when she walked in. "Franco Barbarossa was set free last night, by the man who calls himself Zorro."

"He's free? Will—will that last?"

"Time will tell, _sobrina,_ but I think Carlos Galindo is too proud a man to try it again."

Rosarita sat down in her chair rather heavily. She couldn't believe he'd actually been set free. "Who is this Zorro?"

Her uncle shrugged. "No one knows, that is the point, I suppose. He is an outlaw, but not like one you'd know, or one you'd associate with the word. He helps people."

She blinked, confused. Her uncle continued. "He is like an avenging angel."

"Then why does he call himself Zorro?"

"Do not ask me. It was his own choice of title. I suppose it sounds better, and he does have a knack for getting out of hard places, like a fox would."

"When did he first appear? He wasn't here when I was. This is the first time I've heard of him."

Her uncle paused. "Ah...we had a commandante named Monastario. He was not a...good man. He was cruel and power hungry. One day he went too far, by arresting Ignacio Torres. It was then that Zorro appeared. He rescued Ignacio and then stuck around to help with other issues during Monastario's reign. I will confess that no one expected to see him again after Monastario left, but lately," her uncle's brow crinkled. "More issues have come up and Zorro has appeared more and more. Just recently, Don Francisco—" He broke off rather abruptly. "But that doesn't need to be spoken about."

"What about Don Francisco?" Rosarita asked, her curiosity piqued.

"I suppose you are old enough." Her uncle mused and Rosarita raised an eyebrow. What was this story? "Obviously no one really knows the details but his daughter Magdalena had returned and..." he trailed off. "I don't know, but as best as _I_ can tell it, after the fiesta for her at the de la Vega hacienda, there was trouble for her and her father on the road. Zorro rescued them, but it was a queer situation all around, and soon after Don Francisco took his daughter and went to Santa Barbara."

* * *

After breakfast, Rosarita wandered out onto her uncle's patio. What a strange man, this Zorro. At once a hero and an outlaw but no one actually knew anything about him.

She moved slowly towards her uncle's carefully cultivated rose bushes, a red one, a pink one and a white one. She touched the blooms with absent fingers, thinking over things.

She needed to ask someone about Zorro, someone who actually knew something; or at least more than her uncle did.

The answer came to her in a flash. Elena Torres! Uncle Izor had said her father's arrest was what prompted Zorro to action.

Biting her lip, she considered things a moment. "Uncle Izor," she called, hurrying back into the house. "May I use your carriage?"

He was still sitting in the sala, writing a letter. "Si, _sobrina_? What do you wish my carriage for?"

"I'd like to visit with Elena Torres, _por favor_. And I was wondering if I might pick one of your yellow roses. If I recall correctly, she always liked them."

" _Por supuesto_ ," he agreed. "By the time you have changed, my carriage will be waiting."

* * *

"You wish to speak of Zorro?" Elena asked in her usual quiet manner, after pleasantries had been passed.

Rosarita was glad to see that Elena hadn't changed. She was still beautiful and quiet, with a stiff dignity about her that Rosarita had always admired.

"Si. It's just that I was very worried about the Barbarossa situation, and I even went to see the Magistrado about it," she paused.

"You went to see Don Carlos?" Elena asked, sounding worried or shocked, Rosarita couldn't tell.

"With Don Diego as my escort," she hurriedly explained, and Elena relaxed again.

"It didn't turn out very well," Rosarita continued. "Diego spoke to him quite elegantly but Don Carlos simply yelled back and kicked us out. I...Diego refused to do anything else and I was of the mind that no one would do anything, but this morning I wake to find that a Zorro has freed Franco Barbarossa and I don't know what to think!"

Elena looked faintly amused at Rosarita's rushed words. "It is not 'a' Zorro. It is simply Zorro. That is his name."

"Si, _por supuesto,_ " she hurried. "But what can you tell me about him?"

"He saved my father's life, my life, my mother's life, and Benito's life."

"Benito?" Rosarita echoed, confused. A faint blush stained Elena's cheeks.

"For a time, I considered him to be my _galan._ My father spoke to me about it, though, and I realize now that it would be impossible." Elena seemed uncomfortable, so Rosarita dismissed the surprising news that someone like Elena Torres could fall for a vaquero like Benito. They were in such different worlds, and Rosarita had always thought Elena to be one who considered those things very important.

What she wanted to talk about was Zorro, though, and she knew from past experience that if she was too outspoken Elena would dismiss her, in her usual quiet way. "But did you actually ever meet Zorro?"

Elena considered things. "I never actually spoke to him, no," she began, speaking softly. "But I saw him on many occasions and he always seemed to be a very talented man with a sword, and also a very talented speaker. He could always goad Capitan Monastario into losing his temper, making Zorro's path that much easier."

"What else? About his temperament?" Rosarita asked desperately.

A bemused expression came over Elena's face. "He was good in a troublesome situation. He never panicked. Would you like something to drink?"

Those words washed over Rosarita like ice. Elena didn't wish to speak about it anymore, and if she didn't leave soon, she risked Elena not speaking to her, not out of stubbornness or anger, but simply because the other girl didn't understand the questions and was getting suspicious as to Rosarita's intentions. This wouldn't be the first time Rosarita had gotten her into trouble...

True, they were older now and Elena certainly didn't hold grudges. Still, Rosarita took her hostess' cue, deciding that being a good guest was better than learning about Zorro. For now.

"What do you think of the new padre at the mission?" Rosarita asked cordially. "He said Mass yesterday evening, when I went to pray for the Barbarossas."

* * *

She left Elena's in a good mood. After the subject of Zorro had been dropped, she and Elena had had a very enjoyable time getting to know each other again. She'd forgotten how talented Elena was at simply making you feel happy.

But where to next?

* * *

"No, I've never met el Zorro," Moneta told her. "But I know who has, presumably many times. Diego."

She said the word simply, matter-of-factly. Rosarita's tea cup clanged onto the saucer. "Diego has met Zorro?"

"That is how I understand it," Moneta said, her eyes piercing Rosarita. "But why are you asking about Zorro? Have your feelings for Diego evaporated?"

Rosarita flushed. "It's because of the Barbarossas," she explained. "I was very worried for them after yesterday's events and I was very relieved to see that someone helped them."

"He helped them because the only thing he can lose is his identity," Moneta said crisply. "As long as that is safe, he is. And so the silliest thing for him to do would be to get acquainted with the inhabitants of the pueblo. Would you like more tea?"

"Si, you always had the nicest selection," Rosarita said eagerly.

"This blend came from England," Moneta told her. "It is my favorite also. How long are you staying in Los Angeles, Rosarita?"

"A fortnight," Rosarita beamed. "And I had hoped that..."

"That this would be the journey when you got your wish?" Moneta's eyes twinkled. "Your feelings for Diego were always transparent, _hermana."_

Rosarita was glad to have Moneta call her 'hermana' so familiarly. She was again glad to see that _some_ people didn't change.

"I did think that I'd come close, the night of my fiesta," she blurted, leaning forward in her seat.

"So did everyone else. Diego must have danced four dances with you."

"Five," Rosarita admitted. "He asked me for another at the end of the evening, when many had already left, but Don Alejandro was speaking with my uncle Izor, so they weren't leaving yet."

Moneta's keen eyes pierced her again. "I hesitate to say this, but I feel I should tell you. He danced the same amount of dances with Don Francisco's daughter, Magdalena. She came here, and everyone was sure they'd be a match."

"What happened?"

Moneta shrugged. "I don't know. I was there that night, and I was pleased to see that Magdalena wasn't as bold as rumors implied. She seemed to simply be following Diego's lead."

"And?"

"The next morning, there were rumors of Zorro saving their lives, and the next thing we knew, Magdalena had been whisked off."

"But what about Diego?"

"I did notice, that at the end of the evening, he grew...testy," Moneta said slowly. "He had words with his father, and there was an odd situation with the Magistrado. I think he had other things on his mind that night."

Rosarita settled back into her seat. "So you suggest I speak to Diego about Zorro?"

"I wouldn't say suggest," Moneta laughed. "But Zorro was said to be at the de la Vega hacienda many times during Monastario's reign."

* * *

Rosarita felt more than hesitant to speak to Diego about Zorro. After her explosion yesterday, it didn't seem appropriate.

Beggars can't be choosers, though, and her next destination was the de la Vega hacienda.

* * *

Diego wasn't fencing when she walked in this time, nor was he at the piano as he'd been yesterday. For whatever reason, she wished for either of the stances rather than what he was doing, which was slouching in a chair and playing his guitar very lazily, but the tune was intriguing. It was a soft, wistful tune, and when played slowly as it was now, it seemed to be a dream spoken through music.

She stood stock-still for a moment, simply astounded. This was what Diego had turned into? While innocent men suffered, he slouched at home and played the guitar?

Diego's gaze wandered around the room, and when it fell on Rosarita he jerked to attention. "Rosarita! What are you doing here?"

He jumped to his feet, the guitar left abandoned on his chair. That cheered her, his inattention to it. "I'm sorry for letting myself in, but no one answered my knock," she replied.

"Everyone is busy right now, I suppose. My apologies for being kept waiting," Diego hurried, running a nervous hand through his hair. "I must say, this is a surprise, you, Rosarita, being here at this time of day."

His words grew steadily louder, and Rosarita's eyes grew steadily wider. There was a faint thump, or click, or something, and her eyes darted to the fireplace, then past it to the cabinet.

Diego jumped into her line of vision. "Let's go for a walk," he urged. "Just the path we used to take, down to the Torres stream."

He had taken her arm and had steered her out the door before she could say anything, but just as they reached the gate, he slapped his forehead. "I forgot my hat," he explained with swift words. "I'll be just a moment, _por favor._ "

She wanted to say something cutting, but he was gone so quickly it was like he'd vanished. She watched him run back into the sala, then turn around and dash to the stairs, shooting her an apologetic glance as he did so.

His moment was longer than any moment should be, and when he came down, he didn't have his hat, even.

"How about we just walk to the hill?" Diego requested. "I'm not as free as I thought I was. My father has some tedious task for me when I return."

"Your father was in your room?"

"Bernardo gave me the message," he explained.

"Who _is_ Bernardo?" She asked curiously.

"A man I hired in Spain, he is deaf and dumb, but he would die for me," Diego explained mechanically, as if this were a well rehearsed response.

"Ah, that makes everything clearer," she returned, sarcasm in her voice.

"Doesn't it?" Diego asked distractedly. "Look at that sky! I do think it's going to rain! I really shouldn't be out if it is." He turned to her. "I promise I will take you out tomorrow, to make up for it, eh? You can get Amelia to act as duena, and we can go for a real ride."

His mention of a duena completely floored her, and suddenly she didn't care a whit for Zorro. "Si," she gasped.

"Good. I'll see you then," he said, hurrying her into her carriage. "Tomorrow at ten."

"All right," she affirmed. "I'll be waiting."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

* * *

Over the next few days, Diego spent a lot of his time in Rosarita's company, until one day she didn't see him at all, and the next she heard odd news about Zorro.

"They stole his horse?" She asked, in disbelief.

Moneta had come over on her ride, and now she sat out on the patio with Rosarita, talking. "I'm not sure how it exactly happened, but there was an auction. I'm only telling you this because you expressed so much interest."

"No, I know, gracias, Moneta," Rosarita replied.

"I mean it," Moneta said, a bit sharply. "Don't forget other things because of this news."

"What else has he been doing?" She asked, ignoring Moneta's words.

"There's been the usual," Moneta sighed.

"And what is the usual?"

"Helping people," Moneta said crisply. "What about you and Diego? Has anything happened there?"

Rosarita slouched back into her seat. "Definitely not," she began. "I thought something would, because he mentioned we'd need a duena, but instead all that has happened is he has talked my ear off discussing the various problems with the pianos here."

Moneta raised an eyebrow. "Pianos?"

"None of them are tuned properly," she told her. "Apparently. But it was still nice. We went riding so many times; of course, we had to take the carriage so Amelia could come."

"Of course," Moneta agreed. "And nothing happened under her watchful eye?"

"He didn't even try," Rosarita said and jumped up. "What about you? Has anyone caught your eye?"

Moneta burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, but I know every man in the pueblo much too well for them to catch my fancy!"

Rosarita laughed with her. "What about anyone else? It would be quite jarring to see one of my childhood friends marry."

"Your cousins. But no one else, yet," Moneta replied.

"Not even Margarita? We always thought she'd be sure to make an early match."

"That was before her mother died," Moneta corrected. "Since then, she has remained very close to home. I don't think she wants that anymore, she doesn't want to leave her father."

Rosarita bit her lip. "And what about Zorro? Does he have a sweetheart?"

Moneta stood up and adjusted her hat. "He certainly enjoyed helping Elena, but no, he doesn't. Didn't we already go over this? And what did you ask Diego?"

"I didn't," Rosarita said flatly. "As I said, his only interest was the various pianos of the pueblo. He even wangled an invitation from my uncle to come to dinner tonight, expressly to play ours."

* * *

That night at dinner, Uncle Izor and Aunt Dulce were most accommodating. Uncle Izor was a good deal older than his brother, Domingo Cortez, and therefore all of Rosarita's cousins were older than her, and had moved away from home. Her youngest cousin, Narcisa, and her husband Roberto, had come tonight, but even Narcisa was an old married woman, and had two children already.

"Tell me, doesn't music help the babies sleep at night?" Diego asked eagerly.

"Si, Don Diego, I always sing to them, or their nurse does," Narcisa replied, looking a bit lost without said children.

"And if you had a piano, you'd play to them from that?"

"Roberto would," Narcisa beamed. "I have no talent for the instrument."

"Well, don't you think that an out of tune piano would be more likely to keep them awake?" Diego asked. "It would be so discordant!"

"Si, you are right, it would," Narcisa agreed, nodding her head.

"There!" Diego turned to Rosarita. "There is a usefulness in making sure all the pianos in the pueblo are kept in tune."

Seeing the look on Rosarita's face, Izor hurried to interrupt. "What about your time in Spain, Diego? Was it everything you hoped it would be? I notice you no longer carry a sword."

Diego laughed out loud. "I outgrew that foolishness years ago," he explained merrily. "Who cares for the dull clang of swords when you can hear and play Beethoven, eh?" And to prove it, his hands flew over the keys with grace that surprised them all. "This is part of his _Appassionata_ sonata. Isn't it beautiful? When I play this at home, I always hit a key that is not tuned and it ruins the whole song."

"Well, we should be getting home now, my babies will be missing me," Narcisa said hurriedly. She stood up, and Diego rose from the piano for the first time in an hour.

" _Buenos noches,_ " Diego said graciously. "And remember what I said about pianos."

"Si, Don Diego," Narcisa agreed swiftly. "If we ever get one."

Roberto and Narcisa made their goodbyes to Uncle Izor and Aunt Dulce, and the two saw their youngest daughter out, leaving Rosarita and Diego alone for a moment.

Diego's face took on a keen look, and his gaze pierced Rosarita. "We haven't been alone together in quite some time," he told her. "Doesn't this bring back memories?"

"Of many things," Rosarita replied, surprised by his intensity.

"Do you remember me, as I was?" He asked carelessly. "An overactive, overzealous boy?"

"Of course I do, but I remember you as a brave, wonderful boy who had the biggest heart in the pueblo."

Diego snorted. "What does that phrase even mean?" He asked. "And I wasn't brave, I was foolish. Things fought with fists never end well."

"Your fights with Ricardo always turned out very much to your satisfaction," Rosarita said pertly. "Or did you forget?"

"Oh, Ricardo! I owe him an apology for all those times," Diego enthused.

"No, you don't! You don't owe him anything," Rosarita exclaimed, losing control. "You cannot stand Ricardo! Why apologize?"

Diego's eyes crinkled. "It would be a gentlemanly thing to do," he replied. "Making amends is—"

Rosarita swirled to face away from him. "I don't want to talk about Ricardo," she said wearily.

"You brought him up," Diego reminded softly. "But what do you want to talk about?"

"Zorro," Rosarita replied, turning to face him once more. "What do you know about Zorro? Moneta says he has met you."

"That is an exaggeration," Diego told her. "I may have come across the rascal once or twice, but we never spoke. Why should I speak to an outlaw?"

"I could give you a few reasons, but I doubt it would do you any good," Rosarita snapped. "Go back to your Beethoven."

Diego's shoulders stiffened. "Maybe we are both tired," he said companionably. "I should be going."

Uncle Izor and Aunt Dulce returned then, and he made effusive goodbyes to them, thanking them for the use of their piano.

But to Rosarita? He bowed curtly and didn't make eye contact. Rosarita was left with the uncomfortable feeling that she had maybe gone too far. But for goodness sake! Pianos? Apologizing to Ricardo?

She went up to her room in an angry huff, wishing she could stop the flood of uncharitable feelings.

What was happening to Diego?

* * *

Rosarita paced outside the gate of the de la Vega hacienda, wondering whether she ought to go inside. After last time, and after the time before that, and...

This visit was not going at all the way she'd planned or pictured. By her estimations, made back in Monterey, she and Diego would have been on the verge of engagement by now. He would have tried to spend every minute with her, and she would have made sure that he could.

Instead, he was avoiding her, and she was debating whether he was even worth it anymore!

Those words of his, said in the days before she left, about how he wasn't changing, or they weren't changing and nothing would change had proved to be totally false.

But did that mean you gave up?

She knew it shouldn't.

Rosarita opened the gate and walked inside, and the first person she saw was Don Alejandro, coming down the stairs.

"Ah, Rosarita, how are you? I haven't seen you since the fiesta." He took her hands, the way Diego had upon seeing her, and she smiled to see the similarities.

"I am very well, Don Alejandro. And you?"

"I'm fit as a bull—er, I'm quite well, too," he said. "Let us sit down, have a glass of wine."

"Of course," Rosarita replied, and she let him lead her to the patio table.

"So how have your visits with Diego gone? You certainly seemed to be having a good time at the party."

"Oh, we did. It was a wonderful night."

"But?" Alejandro asked, signaling a passing servant for wine.

"Just that one night went well," Rosarita whispered, a lump coming into her throat. "He's been acting very careless these past few days. Nothing is important, now."

"He has changed, hasn't he?" Alejandro said gently.

"I don't think he feels the same way, about—anything," she said. "Just his piano and the—the quality of the books he reads get his attention. And his guitar, and finding ways to make me feel foolish."

"Don't judge him that harshly, Rosarita. Something must have happened to him in Spain, something beyond a bad experience to make him hate fencing."

"It's just that he always promised that he'd never, we'd never change. I was expecting that, I was counting on those words all the way from Monterey," she said. "I don't judge him for changing, I don't mind that, but he refuses to give any reason, refuses to even talk about it. What am I supposed to make of that? And all the while, the things he should be doing Zorro is! And who even is Zorro? I don't know!"

She realized how angry her voice had gotten and immediately calmed. "I am so sorry, Don Alejandro."

"This house has seen many outbursts of temper, my dear," he said, handing her a glass of wine. "Don't dwell on that. But, uh, back to Zorro. He really is what Diego should have been, isn't he?" Alejandro paused, and looked down at his own glass. "And we are perhaps the only two who really see that for what it is."

Diego came hurrying down the stairs then, whistling a wistful tune, deep in thought. He was tugging his gloves on, and was obviously about to go on a ride. Don Alejandro called out to him. "Diego! Look, we have a guest!"

Diego's gaze meandered up to meet Rosarita's eyes. A lazy grin came to his face and he hurried forward. "And what a guest. Father, uh, don't you have things to do elsewhere?"

Alejandro winked at Rosarita and she barely kept down the urge to giggle, as he made his farewells.

"Diego, if you are going on a ride, you can go ahead. I really don't need to speak with you."

"Nonsense," he said. "I think we had, well, an argument the other night. I really must apologize."

"The apologies are mine, Diego," she returned. "I lost my temper."

"Ah, but you are not the only one with a temper! Maybe mine is just not as apparent anymore." He leaned forward, eyes twinkling. "After all, I didn't try to hit you."

"Like you would have with Ricardo?" She asked slyly, and they both laughed. "Oh, Diego. I think we just got off to a bad start all around."

"That is possible," he mused. "How do you propose I make it up to you?"

"Answer my questions," she whispered.

"Hmm? What questions?"

"About Zorro," she began. "I just want to understand more about him. The Barbarossa situation was so important to me. You must understand why I need this."

"I do understand," Diego said. "I know Eugenia was a good friend of yours and you've always resented people slighting her. But I don't know what to say. Why would I know anything about Zorro?"

"It's said he rescued Don Alejandro," she said.

"Si, but I was never around for that."

"You said you've seen him," she begged.

"Well, hasn't everyone by now? He's always charging around on that black horse of his, hogging the road." He scowled. "He almost ran me off the road once," he said, in a sulky tone. "That's why I preferred not to mention it before now."

Rosarita tried not to laugh at the image of Diego's little carriage tipping over. "I suppose you would've been furious."

"And I was! Really, Rosarita. I understand that you are grateful, but he's still just an outlaw. He's nobody important." Diego looked down at the glass in his hand.

"I need to see him with my own eyes," Rosarita began, looking down at her lap. She didn't know it, but her whole face seemed to be glowing, her eyes especially. Diego took notice of it, and seemed captivated by her as she looked away from him. "You know me, Diego. I need to see him, so that his existence is proved, so that he isn't just a phantom. I could never be satisfied with just hearing about him. You know that," she pleaded, turning to face him, and Diego shook his head regretfully.

"I can't help you there, Rosarita. I wish I could, but you know I can't. He doesn't belong in my world, even if he did save my father. He's just a bandito."

She shook her head. "No, he can't be just a bandito."

"He is," Diego said stubbornly. "Know that, Rosarita."

"Diego, what are you even saying?" She snapped, standing up. Diego jumped to his feet with her. "After everything he's done for the pueblo, you break him down to just being a pesky annoyance that asks for your money and smashes a pistol on your head? No, he's not that."

"You've never met him," Diego said, through clenched teeth.

"And neither have you, if I may remind you of your own words," she returned. "Buenos dias, but I really must be going."

Diego bowed. "Should I see you home?"

She hesitated. Surely she should take that offer!

"No thank you. I know the way."

* * *

Rosarita had no thoughts in her mind but taking an early morning walk to clear her head, when she got up with the sun the next morning. She dressed without Amelia's help, and made her way downstairs, and into the cool air, shivering a bit as she did so.

She needed a new shawl.

She walked down the road, fog obscuring the path, but she didn't mind it. She hoped the wet air would clear her brain.

She kept walking until she reached a signpost, and then a bitter laugh escaped her. She'd taken the route to the de la Vega hacienda without even realizing it. Her feet still took her there, even when she started from her uncle's house.

Before she could think her decision through, she hurried over the fence and started to climb the hill that led to the Torres stream.

She and Diego had taken this path so many times, and had intended to take it just recently when he had cancelled because of the rain.

She continued walking until she reached the water, and then she stood leaning on a tree. She couldn't sit down because it was too wet, so instead she waited, for what she didn't know, but she got it all the same.

For from between the trees, emerging from the fog as a black, blurry figure, came Zorro.

Or so she assumed. She'd never actually seen him, as of yet.

She pushed away from the tree, squinting. Was it Zorro? She'd heard he wore black and was tall, and he had a cape...

Rosarita couldn't stop herself. "Zorro," she whispered, then it became a shout in the silent morning. "Zorro!"

She scrambled to her feet, standing on the grass slick with dew, and she didn't know why but she felt a charge rush through her as the man looked up and saw her. She wanted to run towards him, shout to him, but she slipped on the grass and lost her balance.

She felt herself falling, and her arms wind milled wildly to try to catch her balance. She felt a rush of air, and tumbled into the water.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events in this chapter—Diego getting increasingly silly and Zorro appearing at the end—stem from my conviction that there had to have been more that happened for Rosarita to so vehemently defend Zorro and rebuff Diego in her second episode. I honestly do not think that Zorro's appearance contradicts the events in the show, but you are free to disagree with me.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

* * *

There was no danger, and she didn't panic when she fell in. She hit the bottom rather hard, she'd admit that, but there was no danger. The water was only a foot deep, and that was in the deepest part which definitely wasn't here.

_So why did Zorro hurry so when she fell in?_

He grabbed her by the hands, helping her up, and she slipped again when trying to get to her feet because of his quickness.

Her hands slipped from his and she went in face first this time, because of how she'd fallen. Spluttering, she was hauled from the water even less gently than the first time, and placed on the grass.

She couldn't even savor the feel of his arms around her, because she'd resented it. It had been his fault she'd fallen the second time!

But now he was sweeping off his cape and placing it around her, rubbing her arms.

"Stop it," she gasped. "I'm fine. I've always been around water."

"Not like this," he returned, in a sharp voice.

She pushed his arms away, not liking the familiar way he was going about it. "Please. I'm fine."

"Do you want to catch cold?" He demanded.

"Why are you here?" She asked, still trying to catch her breath.

"I could ask you the same thing," he said.

Humiliation was the predominant emotion in her, overriding curiosity and the vague fondness that had started upon hearing about him.

Why did they have to meet like this? He was thinking of her as an idiot and she was resenting his seeing her like this.

She pushed him away from her again, standing up.

"I find it my duty to take you home, senorita. No self-respecting outlaw would abandon a woman like this."

"I know my way back, or I can just go to the de la Vega hacienda. They can take me home!" She tried to walk past him, but he caught her by the arm without even seeming to try.

The same charge shoot through her when his hand touched her arm.

"Please don't," she said, but turned around to face him. The humiliation was fading, and was being replaced by a tingly feeling of...tingles.

"Who are you?" She breathed, and her eyes went up to his face. It was covered by a mask, and the hat created a shadow.

"I'm a Fox," he said. "And I'm taking you home."

She remembered how she'd longed to meet him. She remembered how she'd even rejected Diego's offer of an escort home because he'd insulted Zorro. She remember how thrilled she'd been when she heard of his rescuing the Barbarossas.

What did it matter how they met? They had. She suddenly clutched the cape tight around her. "Gracias."

* * *

After Amelia made her take a warm bath to counteract the effects of the cold water, Rosarita sat at her vanity, while Amelia combed her wet hair. She was considering her encounter that morning, and Amelia was digging for information.

"So, _nina,_ what happened to you this morning? Why were you all wet? Do I need to tell your uncle?" She saved her best question for last, and Rosarita's flashing eyes met Amelia's knowing ones in the mirror.

"Amelia, don't be foolish. Nothing happened. I just went for a walk and..." Her voice trailed off.

"A walk to where?" Amelia asked, her voice deceptively casual as she worked through a tangle.

Rosarita shrugged, lowering her eyes to the wood surface of the vanity and picking up the hair pin there. "My usual walk, to the stream that separates the Torres rancho from the de la Vega property."

"And you fell into this stream?"

"Si. The dew was thicker than I thought and I slipped when I started back up the hill," Rosarita said.

Amelia nodded. "Then how did you come home by horse?"

Rosarita dropped the hairpin. The small click seemed elevated by the silence in the room, that was only broken by the soft sound of the comb working its way through her hair.

"Why would you think I came home by horse?"

"I heard it. And your dress has stains on it that only happen when you ride."

Rosarita pursed her lips. Amelia knew her far too well. "I met someone who wanted to give me a ride because I was all wet."

"Someone inappropriate? Someone you wouldn't want your uncle to see?" Amelia continued relentlessly. "Why did you sneak in through the back?"

"I didn't want to call attention to my fall. I would have been teased," she protested.

"By who? Your uncle? Surely not," Amelia chided. "Who gave you a ride home?"

Rosarita gave up the struggle. It _would_ come out, sooner or later. "Zorro."

This time, the comb fell to the floor. Amelia stared at her, mouth agape. "Surely you can't be telling the truth."

"Have you ever known me to lie?" Rosarita asked. "You have the whole truth now."

"No, I do not," Amelia huffed. "How did he happen to be there? What happened on the ride home? Did you arrange this, Rosarita? I know you have been asking questions." She stared at her charge, and repeated, in a shocked voice. "Did you arrange this meeting?"

"No!" She exclaimed. "I was just going to the stream. How was I to know that Zorro would appear?"

* * *

"No!" Diego said, his surprise reverberating through the de la Vega sala. Amelia sat in the corner, quietly knitting. "You met Zorro?"

"Si," Rosarita said, eyes glowing. "And he is not just a bandito. He saved me."

"He...saved you?" Diego asked, and to her infuriation, he seemed to be choking back laughter. "From what?"

"From a watery grave," she sighed.

"What watery grave? Where did you go?"

"I fell into the Torres stream," she admitted, and Diego burst out laughing.

"The water there is never more than a foot deep, and that is just down by where the cattle drink. You were never in any danger!"

Rosarita smiled, and moved to the piano, letting her fingers caress the keys. "Do you mind?"

Diego shook his head. "Go ahead, if you can stand the keys that are not tuned."

She smiled over her shoulder at him and sat down. "I know I wasn't in danger, Diego, but he came so quickly that I don't know whether he did or not."

She began to play a ballad, then stopped. "What about that song you keep whistling? And you played it on the guitar also. What is it?"

Diego moved closer, slowly, and he sat down next to her. "To be perfectly honest, I don't know. And the person I learned it from didn't either."

"Who did you learn it from?"

"Don Francisco's daughter," Diego said. "Magdalena. She was playing it when I met her and then she taught me later that same day."

"Really?" Rosarita asked. "Did you...like Magdalena?"

Diego placed his hands on the keys. "She was like fire," he said softly. "A fire that swept into my life and set it aflame. But it burned too quickly and now she's gone."

"Teach me it," Rosarita said firmly, and Diego began to play.

She watched his fingers carefully, as he played on the lower end of the piano, and she started on the higher end. The sound was a bit awful, and they couldn't quite get synced, but they played until she knew it, and then Diego stood up.

"Last time we did something like this we were fencing," Rosarita noted, moving to the middle of the bench again. She began the song, and played it slowly, remembering how Diego had played it on the guitar.

"Are there lyrics?" She asked, and Diego shook his head.

"Good," she returned. "Let's leave it that way. If it is Magdalena's song, we should not be the ones to write the words."

* * *

Rosarita was steadily moving through the list of friends she wanted to visit before her trip ended. She'd seen Elena, Moneta, Eugenia and Isabella, but she hadn't yet visited Margarita.

She was considering doing so that Sunday, thinking she could ride back from church with her friend. Margarita's rancho was farther from Los Angeles than the others, just a bit isolated, and Rosarita thought that Margarita preferred that.

She'd always been a friendly girl, her beautiful smile being the thing that Rosarita remembered most about her. When her mother had died, though, it had cast a shadow over Margarita, and Rosarita had left before that shadow had lifted, leaving her to wonder if it ever had.

Margarita was brushed from her mind before Sunday came. On Thursday, she went into Los Angeles with Diego, to wander among the street vendors, picking out a shawl.

She was left with a slightly guilty feeling when he'd dropped her off, because they'd argued again. First there was Garcia with the man in chains, and that had caused trouble. She had been angered at Diego's presumption his silly letter had done anything—for it hadn't done anything that even compared to Zorro's deed.

After that conversation, she was left with the unfavorable comparison of the two men...because it seemed that Zorro seemed to keep coming out on top, something that Rosarita didn't like.

She didn't come to Los Angeles to fall under a bandito's spell, after all. At that thought, she wanted to slap herself.

Zorro _was_ a bandito. Why did she keep getting angry at Diego for pointing that out? Because she liked Zorro better and didn't want him belittled, or because she liked Diego better and didn't want to draw the comparisons?

And then she'd hurt his feelings over the sword. She'd seen the way hurt came into his face during that conversation, and she regretted it, but memories of the day they'd practiced together...

It had hurt her almost to the core to see Diego talk about swords that way. Although she knew she was being foolish, his _"Well, what other reason is there?"_ had seemed to her to be a direct repudiation of that day spent practicing.

It was that that had really made Zorro more appealing to her. If Diego really didn't remember, or care, about that day anymore, she knew he had changed too much.

And that was a truth almost too horrible to contemplate.

* * *

That night, dinner was early. Uncle Izor and Aunt Dulce were going to visit Don Estevan Tomayo and his wife, their contemporaries, which reminded her how much older Izor was than his brother Domingo.

Aunt Dulce lingered a moment to tell Rosarita to not stay up too late, but she might as well stay up to see the moon. It was going to be a full one.

Rosarita was grateful for Dulce's romantic heart as she sat on the patio, sewing, until it got too dark. The moon came up, and Rosarita contemplated it in silence.

The moon had always seemed to her to be a great keeper of secrets. The moon could know a lot.

The Moon would know Zorro's identity. Rosarita shook her head. Wasn't that a foolish thing to wish for?

 _Wish it,_ a voice said, and she couldn't help but obey it.

"Oh, Moon in the sky, can't you tell me who Zorro is?"

There was no answer, so she went inside and lit the candles on top of the piano. She sat down and played a popular ballad, one that Diego had put words to, but she didn't know that.

She played it for a long time, it seemed, repeating it over and over, and every time she played it the image of Zorro seemed to grow in her mind. Every time she restarted, back to the first note, Diego seemed to become less and less important.

_"If Zorro had been the one to fence with you that day, he wouldn't have forgotten."_

_"If it had been Zorro you made those vows to, maybe he wouldn't have laughed at them."_

_"Zorro would love you. He wouldn't reject you at every turn, with laughing words and mocking eyes and lips that denied all they'd ever spoken."_

Rosarita's hands slipped from the keys with a bang. They were trembling.

She sat on the bench, feeling angry and afraid, and wishing that Diego were Zorro, or the other way around, or that she could go back to that day by the stream. She wouldn't have gone. If she hadn't gone, nothing would have hurt this much.

She returned her fingers to the keys and finished the song. Then she stood, blew out the candles and took her shawl from where it hung on a chair.

She was still placing on her shoulders as she exited the sala, back to the cool night air on the patio. Back to the moon.

Back to...

_who was that?_

* * *

He spoke as if he knew her, that was the first thing she noticed.

"Buenos noches, senorita," the man said, and when he saw her he started forward.

Rosarita tensed immediately, and it was all she could do to hold her ground. "Who are you?" She asked, meaning the words to sound strong, but her voice shook.

"You do not remember me?" He asked, sounding hurt.

She desperately studied his face, wishing it turn into one of a childhood friend. Then she needn't fear. She shook her head, not meaning to, and he swept off his hat.

"Now in the moonlight," he began, "Do you recognize me?"

She studied him closer, wondering what on earth he meant about the moonlight. Then she remembered, and a feeling of relief swept through her, chasing away the anxious tickles in her chest. "Oh yes, we were passengers on the ship from Monterey."

He nodded, smiling. "Sancho Fernandez, at your service."

His name recalled, she felt less at ease. "It's rather late, senor. I...why are you here?" She almost didn't want to hear the answer.

"I felt it my duty; I should pay my respects to you and your family." He glanced around, as if expecting to see them there, waiting behind her.

"Perhaps you could come back some other time." Rosarita wanted to step back, but didn't want to show her fear. "It's not proper for us to be here alone."

 _Proper._ _Why on earth possessed her to say that? Now what was going through his mind was that they were being improper, in which case, why not be more?_ Her eyes widened in horror at the implications that could be drawn from that statement, and he seemed to be drawing all of them.

"Surely your uncle could chaperone us? He is home, is he not?" His words mocked her.

"No, he's visiting friends this evening." Rosarita desperately tried to remember the name to give him, but all thoughts fled her mind.

A look of triumph crowned him. He knew what he was doing, then. "Then perhaps, one of the servants." He replaced his hat, no longer playing a gentleman.

"They've all retired." She gathered her courage, trying not to look at him. "Please, I'll have to ask you to leave."

Instead, he let his hand reach out to caress her shawl. She looked down, and the sight of his hand placed on it so intimately paralyzed her. "I saw you in the marketplace, buying this shawl today. It is very beautiful."

The words hurt her. _Please, senor. Please._

"Please, senor." She gasped, as he pulled the shawl, and her, closer, intending to gather her into his arms.

She'd never been held by a man like that, and she didn't intend to start with him. "Please," she begged, one last time, as his face grew closer and closer, and she shrank against the pillar he was pinning her to.

There was a sound, then he jerked away from her. "Zorro!"

Her eyes flew open, and when he let her go, she collapsed, wanting to scream and cry and hide under her bed, but instead she looked up and saw Zorro.

Saw how his feet moved, so swiftly and neatly. Saw how his cape flew around him, both hiding and revealing his body.

She saw that he was protecting her. _That_ was why he was here.

And that was why Diego...

...wasn't.

* * *

_Til we meet again, senorita._

* * *

End Part Two.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there will be one more story for this lovely couple, in which we find out if they become a couple during what happens next. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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